Emergency Measures

When I hear terms like “crisis management” or “emergency measures,” images leap to mind of miserable, huddled people clustered around sagging tents, surrounded by mud or backlit by the lurid orange light of their house in flames; volcanoes, tidal waves, cities crushed by earthquakes; dislocated throngs living in sports facilities, fleeing murderous paramilitaries, starving while their crops die from drought and their women are raped by armed gangs from the next village over. For this reason it gives me a jolt when I receive cautionary notes including these terms from organizations responsible for dealing with widespread misfortune. My first panicky thought is that these highly placed functionaries know something that they are not telling us about. That they know that there is a hurricane bearing down on us, a lava dome forming under our feet, a fleet of bombers approaching over the pole, with their sights set on Rutland.
Happily, we have been spared most of these assaults on our placid lives, however, it appears that our ever vigilant watchdogs are leaving nothing to chance as I have been getting more than the average number of messages recently from well-meaning persons and organizations who, having my health and welfare at the forefront of their minds, want to make sure that I do not suffer some horrible fate in the event of catastrophe. Since the sort of dislocation that constitutes a catastrophe seems to cover a larger and more varied list of misfortunes with each passing year, I am not sure whether they mean nuclear strike or road washed out again. Not that it matters much since the measures we are enjoined to take are the same in either case:
1. Make sure there is a lot of tinned food about the place
2. Keep some water handy since your well will not provide when the power is out.
3. Get lots of things that use batteries, like flashlights and stuff. Maybe a radio.
4. A few candles couldn't hurt. Don't leave your toddlers alone with them.
One official went so far as to suggest that sufficient emergency provisions should be laid in for 72 hours. That's 3 days. Presumably after that arduous period spent loafing around the house without even a TV, unless you've got a generator, helicopters would be provided to replenish the victims' dwindling stock of Cheetos. Maybe they could strafe the affected area with frozen chickens which could then be cooked on sticks over a fire on the patio made by breaking up their furniture.
I was disappointed to note that none of these sources of comfort and good sense cautioned the inexperienced not to remain in the house if the toddler managed to get a crackling blaze going in the couch. No mention was made in any of the notices I received of fire extinguishers, so one can only imagine that the average householder would not have one, or know how to use it if they did.
It is not clear what is driving this drift toward trivializing the idea of what constitutes an Official Disaster. It is tempting to imagine that the legal industry plays a starring role. I understand the Corps of Engineers is still coping with lawsuits relating to the Katrina disaster, and the National Weather Service is clearly the target of choice when your house is unexpectedly washed out to sea owing to their failure to predict a 10-inch rainfall. However, it is hard to see how canned goods would improve the aftermath of either of these events.
This is a fundamental evolution of the National Character and may go far to explain why we, as a nation, steadfastly refuse to do anything that might mitigate the environmental apocalypse to which we have so generously contributed. With so many examples of the often rapid progress from the introduction of a good idea to a preposterously extreme application of it, it is understandable that people would be anxious about any reduction in, say, fuel consumption or the use of plastic bottles. The extrapolation of these benign measures would inevitably, in the anxious public mind, result in all of us riding bicycles or carrying water in our hats.
And then how could we live with ourselves?